Little Things
by Icicle Raindream
Summary: Noah reflects on his life with Luke during a difficult time.
1. Matthew

Disclaimer: I own nothing of As the Worlds Turns and am making no profit from this, though I did have a lot of fun writing it!

Notes: This fic takes place about ten years or so into Luke and Noah's future. I realize that there are some details in here (and the following chapters) that I purposely didn't explain, and I hope that works okay. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed my ATWT fics thus far. I really appreciate it and I love hearing your feedback!

Also, I must thank my lovely sister, LunaSempai/Honey, for providing me with the awesome names of Luke and Noah's children. I really wanted to keep the whole Biblical name scheme intact, and she graciously donated her time and offered me up two amazing names. Thanks, kiddo!

And now, on with the show. :-) I hope you enjoy! Please drop me a line. :-)

* * *

Little Things

Chapter One: Matthew

"What's wrong?"

I stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind me, stopping to survey the people standing in front of me. My question went unanswered as they all stood still, Holden and Lily looking like they wanted to say something, but weren't sure how. I fixed my attention on my son, who was standing apart from Holden and Lily, closer to me. I immediately knew why everyone was so silent.

I bent down to one knee in front of Matthew, who regarded me with dark, quiet eyes. He hadn't said much recently, and though that wasn't anything new for him, I knew there was something on his mind.

"What's going on, pal?" I asked him softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

My son's dark eyes caught the light that was shining from the ceiling above us, and I saw the fear behind the calm in his pupils. Holden, Lily, and Hannah all stood completely still, waiting for Matthew to answer.

"Are we going to be able to talk to Daddy again?" he finally asked, his voice barely audible.

My chest squeezed involuntarily at his words. I pulled him closer to me and then picked him up, balancing him against my right hip as I stood. He held to the front of my jacket tightly, his eyes locked on mine.

"Of course you are," I assured him, smoothing his hair. I regarded him for a moment, then gave him a small smile in hopes of lifting his spirits. This was a lot for a six-year-old to take in. "Do you know how much Daddy loves you?"

Matthew didn't answer, but I knew he was effortlessly absorbing my words like a sponge.

"Your Daddy loves you more than anything in the world," I continued, knowing I had his full attention as always. "You know that?"

Slowly, Matthew nodded. He did know. He had spent every morning of his life with Luke, and even though he was young, I knew he hadn't taken it for granted. He knew how much he was loved. "I want to talk to him again," he whispered.

I hugged my son closer. "I know." I kept my voice light in order to instill comfort. "I want to talk to him again, too."

I kissed Matthew's forehead, then looked past him at my family. Holden had Hannah by the hand, and Lily was standing next to her. Hannah had been quiet today, too, which was odd for her, being the feisty ball of energy she usually was. But in light of today's events, she merely sucked on her fingers, holding tightly to Holden with her other hand. All three looked back at me, waiting for me to make the first move.

I looked back to Matthew. "Grandpa Holden and Grandma Lily want to make you dinner," I told him. "Do you want to go back to the farm with them?"

My son was smart; he knew when he'd had enough emotional activity for a day and needed a break. He nodded then, and I could tell he wanted me to put him down so he could join Hannah at Holden's side. I placed him steadily on the floor, then smiled as he turned to Holden and silently took his hand.

Holden and Lily smiled back at me and turned to leave, but before they both could get even halfway down the hall, a doctor in green scrubs stopped in front of them, beckoning for their attention. I recognized the young man as an associate of Luke's special care practitioner, who we'd spoken with more times than I could count in the last two days. I joined them in the middle of the conversation.

"…just need some more medical history, to fill in some gaps," the doctor was saying. Holden had hoisted Hannah to his hip, and Matthew was still holding on to him. Both he and Lily were very intensely focused on the young doctor and the charts in his hand, which we all knew contained Luke's information.

"I'll stay," Lily said to Holden. "I'll fill him in."

Holden agreed quickly, and they both glanced back at me. I nodded in agreement as well. Lily knew more about Luke's medical history than I ever could.

The doctor smiled appreciatively at all of us and then led Lily off down the opposite end of the hall, presumably to a place where they could talk in private. Holden smiled at me, his warm eyes tinged with sadness, then readjusted Hannah on his hip and turned back in the direction of the hall. My daughter looked solemnly over Holden's shoulder at me, her fingers in her mouth, until they turned the next corner and disappeared.

I swiveled on my heel and re-entered the hospital room, where my husband of eight years lay, resting in his bed in what I prayed was peaceful sedation, while the drugs meant to fight off the infection in his only remaining kidney coursed through his system.

It had been two days since he'd gotten sick, and a full twenty-four hours had passed with him under the anesthesia. I took up my chair next to his bed again, thankful that Lucinda had been able to strong-arm the hospital into giving Luke not only his own private room here in Chicago, but also granting me the ability to stay with him every moment I wanted. I couldn't have asked for more in this situation.

* * *

I stood in the living room as the fear slowly gripped me. It first started somewhere deep in the core of my gut, then spread outward, creeping steadily along my limbs, tingling until I felt completely frozen in place. This tiny, warm creature lay in front of me, swaddled in a blanket on the changing table, and the only thing I could do was blink.

Luke's body pressed gently against my side. I felt his gaze on me; could see the smile that lit his face. He waited for me to move, and my hands shook uncontrollably as I reached out towards the table and took hold of the blanket, carefully peeling it back from each side of our baby, fingers trembling. Luke chuckled good-naturedly under his breath, while I started feeling dizzy.

"Noah." Luke gently coaxed me with his voice, so that I would look at him. I fixed my attention to where he stood on my left, the corners of his eyes crinkled in conjunction with his smile. "It's okay." He reached up to smooth my hair back from my forehead, his thumb caressing my skin reassuringly.

I located my voice and swallowed. "I don't…I can't…" I couldn't even put a sentence together, how was I supposed to do _this_? "I've never done this before," I finally confessed to him dumbly.

Luke chuckled warmly again, his eyes sparkling. "I know," he said comfortingly. "But I'm right here, and I'll help you."

I stared at him.

"I'll help you," he repeated confidently. "You won't have to do this alone."

That was the first time I'd ever changed Matthew's diaper, on the first day we had brought him home. Luke and I were brand new fathers, and I was absolutely terrified, because this was completely uncharted territory for me. Luke was the experienced one and I was the undeniable, albeit eager, novice.

But Luke stood there with me and guided my hands gently, taught me what to do with ease. His motions were fluid and calming, and before I knew it, Matthew was happily nestled back in my arms, and Luke was grinning from ear to ear. He was proud of me, and I stood in front of him, holding that tiny bundle of blanket and heat, awash in Luke's sweet emotion.

It was because of Luke that Matthew had become my little buddy from that day forward; the silent little boy with sharp eyes and an even sharper brain was bonded to me because Luke had made it so, without even trying. Everything about Luke was natural and effortless, and I reveled in his calm as it tempered my storm, his serenity as it smoothed my rough edges.

* * *

When Lily re-entered Luke's room, she found me still in my spot, bent over in my chair, clutching his hand. I didn't try to hide the fact that I'd been crying – the salty tracks were slowly dying against my cheeks – but instead just kept my eyes fixed on Luke, where he lay stretched out before me, the blue hospital blanket neatly tucked around his waist.

Lily's hand came to rest on my shoulder. She stood quietly behind my chair, observing her son with me. I sniffed hard and clenched his fingers tighter. The memory of our first day with Matthew had completely taken me off-guard, and I wasn't able to speak at the moment. Lily seemed to understand.

After a few minutes, she bent and kissed my temple. "Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?" she whispered. "He needs your strength."

I nodded to her, our eyes briefly catching. She wiped her cheek sadly as a renegade tear fell, then turned from me and exited the room. The door closed softly behind her, and I placed Luke's limp hand against my cheek.

Lily had it backwards. It was I that needed _his_ strength. I knew that I couldn't do any of this without him; I needed him back with me in order to get through this life we had built together.


	2. Pacifier

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of, or connected to, As the World Turns. No profit is being made from this.

Notes: Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing the first chapter! I do love hearing everyone's thoughts!

* * *

Chapter Two: Pacifier

"Darling, have you been here all night, in that chair?"

If I had been able to answer Lucinda, I would have, but the searing pain that shot through my neck as I opened my mouth to reply prevented my brain from forming words that were suitable for sharing. I reached up to my neck and rubbed brashly at it as Lucinda's hawk-eyes gave me a blatant once-over from where she stood in front of Luke's closed door.

"You look like hell," was her conclusion, delivered in that matter-of-fact tone that was neither debatable nor condescending. She studied me intently, bringing the arm of her sunglasses to the corner of her lip. "Go home."

She was merely looking out for me, but the last thing I wanted to do was leave. I opened my mouth to protest, but my argument was lost on her before I even made a sound.

"Your children need you," Lucinda reasoned, holding her hand up for silence. "They're not sleeping any better than you are."

She didn't need to say anything more. I left, but before the door closed behind me, I saw her take up my spot in the chair, reaching out for Luke's hand, which had been clenched within my fingers the entire time I'd been passed out against his thin hospital mattress.

It was day three, and Luke had been taken off the sedation medication. The doctors couldn't tell me why he hadn't woken up yet, but his vitals were stable and he didn't appear to be in any sort of pain. _Appear _being the operative word, of course.

Luke was expected to wake up of his own accord, but there was no definite timetable for when. Could be hours, or could be days. At this point, it didn't really matter; every minute blurred into hours, every hour stretched into days, and it all felt the same regardless.

*

When I picked Hannah and Matthew up from the Snyder farm, I could tell they were both due for a nap, as Lucinda had said. The car ride from the farm to home was silent, and when I double-checked them in the rear-view mirror, they simply sat in the backseat, watching the signs on the road pass by. After a few minutes Hannah reached out to Matthew and took his hand; they held on to each other until we got out of the car in front of our house.

Matthew went into bed with no trouble whatsoever, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I helped him change into his Superman pajamas – a Christmas present from the both of us that Luke had excitedly picked out for him – and crawled into bed, resting his head against his pillow. We shared one another's gaze for a long while, me sitting in his tiny chair in front of the bed, he resting solemnly against his mattress. After an indeterminable amount of time, I kissed his forehead and went to check on Hannah, who I'd put down earlier.

She lay wide-awake in bed and sat up expectantly when I entered her bedroom. I eased down next to her on the bed and she crawled into my lap, the edges of her fuzzy pink nightgown ruffling over the denim of my jeans. I held her to me, her tiny body pressed into my side.

"I can't sleep, Daddy," she whispered, her blue eyes bathing my face.

I gazed down at her, stroking her blonde curls. "Me either," I admitted quietly. My night in Luke's room had been restless and aching, emotionally and physically. Every fiber of my body felt drained, exhausted.

"Can we sleep in your bed?"

Her question was asked in earnest – not in that charming attitude she had been blessed with – but the way she asked it had me just the same. This spirited ball of energy we had been given had us wrapped around her little finger in the most delightful way, but her suggestion took on more appeal than I would have initially guessed, even coming from her.

"Sure," I told her. "That sounds like a good idea."

I swept her off the bed with me, managing to elicit some high-pitched giggles. As we made our way down the hall to my bedroom, Matthew overheard and stepped out into the doorway of his room, observing us. Hannah's giggles floated from my frame down to his, and I realized that he was thinking exactly what I was feeling. Hannah's genuine laughter felt like a warm rubdown of the soul, a heated compress applied to relax sore muscles. My children had spent only one day with their sick father in the hospital, and it had been enough to take a decent emotional toll on them. They deserved some solid, rejuvenating rest.

"We're going to sleep in Daddy's bed," Hannah informed him, where she hung contentedly from my arms. Matthew looked sternly from her up to me, questions immediately forming in his eyes. Luke and I had been firm about them sleeping in their own rooms once they were old enough, and Matthew was well aware of this fact. It hadn't been much trouble to get the kids to comply with our wishes, but still Matthew knew staying in our room was a special treat. Hannah knew as well, but she had always been more willing to try to bend the rules.

I held my hand out to Matthew, to quash any and all doubts. "C'mon," I urged, smiling.

He accepted my hand after an uncertain beat, and the three of us made our way into my bedroom. I closed the door behind me, placed Hannah on her feet, and watched my two kids climb into our queen-sized bed together. I shed my jacket and tossed it over the back of the desk chair, kicked off my shoes, and followed suit. We snuggled against my pillow, Matthew held to my left side, Hannah cuddled into my right. The sounds of my children's breathing and the warmth generated from their small bodies slowly but surely lulled me into a deep sleep.

* * *

I saw it coming.

From across the swing-set and to the left, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and I was on my feet in anticipation before the event had even truly taken place.

Matthew had been enjoying himself in the sandbox. The older kids in the park were playing football nearby, tossing the ball and shouting strategies amiably to one another. Matthew had been paying no attention to them whatsoever, completely focused on his brand new set of toy cars, but as soon as that long pass sailed over the head of one of the older kids and the football thudded to the ground next to Matthew, I knew trouble was in store for this day at the park.

Matthew was completely oblivious until the body of one of the kids hit the ground, covering the football. The kid was merely trying to prevent the opposite team members from stealing the ball from underneath him, but his actions brought about a full-team pileup, right next to the sandbox that Matthew had been sitting in for the last half-hour. The ruckus from the dog-pile instantly jarred Matthew out of his playful reverie, and before a tear had even touched his cheek, I was halfway to the sandbox.

He looked up at me with those dark, soulful eyes, the tears brimming, threatening to spill. The young boys with the football clamored away from us, shouting and teasing one another, their damage completely unbeknownst to them. They hadn't touched Matthew, hadn't even so much as stirred up one grain of dirt in his direction, but the unexpected flurry of motion and tumultuous activity sent a shock through my son that he wasn't likely to recover from without my assistance.

I picked him up immediately from the sandbox as the dam burst, cradling his head against my shoulder, his body against the soft cotton of my gray T-shirt. His coarse wailing rang out into the air, and I held him tighter to me, smoothing circles over his tiny back with my left hand, rocking him slowly. Once he got it out of his system he would be fine.

"What happened?"

Luke's shocked voice appeared from behind me. I turned to face him, still holding Matthew tightly against me.

"Nothing. He's okay," I said, shifting my eyes from Luke to baby Hannah. She didn't seem fazed by her brother's crying. She merely rested against Luke's chest as he held her and stared calmly at me with those round, sapphire eyes.

"The big kids just got a little too close," I explained, recognizing the dissatisfaction on Luke's face. "He's all right. He just got scared."

Luke's pained expression matched Matthew's sobbing as it dwindled down to a simple cry. He reached out and smoothed Matthew's hair, sighing discontentedly. "Poor baby."

I gave my husband a wry smile, recalling olden days of yore when Luke had used the exact same phrase on me in such different circumstances. It always amazed me how Luke's empathy never seemed to diminish, no matter who it was directed toward.

Luke stepped closer to us, still clutching baby Hannah, and Matthew turned his head to focus on his father. Luke smiled at him, his warm brown eyes crinkling in that expression of love I knew so well. Matthew sniffled and rested his face against my chest, his attention now fixed entirely on Luke.

"It's okay," Luke soothed him, moving even closer to us. "You're okay." Luke slid up against me, Hannah on his left hip. I moved my arm from Matthew's back and wound it around Luke's waist, pulling him flush against me. We four stood together in silence for a moment, then Luke's head fell against my chest as well. Matthew watched his every move with wide, wet eyes.

"See? It's okay," Luke said again. He nuzzled me gently, pointedly. "When I get scared, Daddy holds me too. Then everything gets better."

I smiled into Luke's hair, pressing the tip of my nose to his forehead. I don't know how he did it; how he always managed to say the exact right thing at the exact right time, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than Matthew had dried his last tear for the remainder of the day.

* * *

I woke with a slight start and glanced down at myself, at my kids, who were still sleeping soundly against either side of me. Sharp thoughts ripped through my cloudy brain, breaking through my hazy sleepiness.

I wondered if Luke was scared at this very moment. If somewhere in the depths of his subconciousness, he was completely aware, and absolutely terrified, by what was going on with his body, by the fact that he hadn't woken up yet, and by the fact that he couldn't physically contact everything that was familiar to him. Maybe the fear was what was keeping him under his own personal anesthesia, keeping him blocked out from the conscious world. Maybe he was experiencing the type of shock that came from outside forces reaching and shaking him roughly without ever having truly touched him.

I lay for the next hour, with Hannah and Matthew fast asleep against me, and mulled my thoughts over. Then I came to a decision.

Later that night, after Holden and Lily had shown up for night duty with the kids, I found myself doing something incredibly stupid and downright ridiculous for a man not only my age, but also my size. When the door to Luke's hospital room had closed behind me, I found myself gently climbing into bed with my husband, careful not to dislodge any wires or crush any cords on the way. I settled against the empty half of his pillow and cradled him to my side, pulling his warm body against mine as I had done earlier with our kids. Then I held him close to me all night, in the hopes that, if he was scared in any capacity, on any level somewhere unfathomable to the human brain, I could help alleviate his fear, and maybe bring his consciousness back to the surface.

Maybe bring him back to us.


	3. Anniversary

Disclaimer: I own nothing of As the Worlds Turns and make absolutely no profit from this.

* * *

Chapter Three: Anniversary

The morning sun streamed through the half-closed blinds of Luke's hospital room, the shine of it hitting me directly in the eyes. Groggily, I shook myself awake, then glanced at my watch. Seven-thirty a.m.

Luke's body was still cradled snugly against mine, my right arm having gone numb in my sleep hours ago. Luke's soft blonde locks brushed my shirt, his head tilted against my chest. His breathing was even, his body still. He could have easily been mistaken for being asleep.

I rested my face against the top of his head, breathing in his sweet scent. I missed my husband, my partner. I wanted to hear his voice again, see that thousand-watt smile of his light up his face, feel his gentle hands wandering over my torso in loving patterns. I sighed deeply and closed my eyes against my worrisome thoughts, determined not to let the pain creep in. All of these things I desired would come back to me, if just let them.

The door to Luke's room opened then, not in that quiet way his family often used in order to not disturb him, but in that professional, business-like manner. I opened my eyes quickly and found myself staring at a nurse in maroon scrubs, who was standing in front of the door. It slowly clicked shut behind her as we took each other in.

She stood with a small round tray of some sort in her hands, halted in her tracks by the sight of my six-foot frame crammed into the tiny hospital bed with my unconscious husband. I was pretty sure I had been breaking a number of hospital rules by taking up residence in the small space that was left on Luke's bed, but last night, I hadn't thought to care. Now, face to face with hospital staff, I was caught red-handed.

But she surprised me. After a moment, she chuckled to herself and moved to the side of the bed, where she placed the beige container in her hands on the small table next to me. She then crossed over to the other side of the bed, grabbing Luke's chart from its holder at the foot of the frame on the way, and checked the various machines that were lined up next to one another. She scribbled something briefly on Luke's sheet, replaced his chart in its holder, and then made for the door, with barely a second glance in my direction.

"That's breakfast," she called over her shoulder, pointing back towards the tray she had placed on the stand.

"W-wait!" I called, sitting up too fast and immediately regretting it. My numb arm startled to tingle painfully. "Luke's not awake yet. I mean, he's not sleeping, but he's not—"

The nurse stopped in the doorway and turned back to me, one hand holding the door open behind her. She smiled pleasantly at me.

"It's not for Mr. Snyder," she said, her eyes sparkling. "That breakfast is for _you_, Mr. Mayer." Then she swiveled on her heel and passed through the door, allowing it to shut.

I glanced over at the container on my left in apprehension. Steam was drifting through a small vent at the top of the container's lid. The aroma that passed as hospital breakfast food wafted towards me, slowly filling the room.

I kissed the top of Luke's head, then guided his slender neck carefully back against his pillow, making sure he looked comfortable. I slid out of bed, shaking my half-dead arm, and reached for the container.

* * *

"What was the name of that place again?"

Luke's voice was hushed, tinged with contentment. He lifted his chin and looked up at me from where we sat together in the back of the cab, our bodies nestled comfortably into the thick black leather seats. Our fingers slowly tangled, his smooth skin sliding comfortingly against my own.

I hugged him closer, savoring the way his smaller frame fit so nicely into my tall, lanky one. I caught a whiff of his aftershave as I replied, "Vincent's." I brushed the tip of my nose across his forehead, breathing in more of his scent, then pulled back and smiled at him. "Corner of Hester and Mott."

Luke smiled back, those heavenly brown eyes emanating from within the sockets. "I really liked that place," he whispered. He dropped my hand and slid his palm over my chest, up to my neck, where he rested it at the nape. His fingertips tugged gently at my hair, and I knew what he wanted.

I lowered my mouth to his, taking it gently with my own. Luke kissed back amorously, his lips falling open against our loving rhythm, as we shifted into the familiar affectionate dance. His hand gripped my neck harder, and I pulled him tighter to me, my right hand resting on his waist. I reveled in the feel of him against me, the sensation of his warm mouth leaving a damp trail over mine, his steady breathing sweeping past my ears. We broke apart almost unwillingly and embraced even closer, Luke sighing softly into my clavicle.

The cab driver spoke over the seat at us, her eyes fixed on her rear-view mirror. "How long you two been together?" she asked, sounding like she was honestly interested, but trying not to scrutinize too hard.

Luke laughed quietly into my lap, and I knew what he was thinking. Only in New York would someone question so blatantly and open-mindedly about us.

"Five years today," I answered her. I rubbed Luke's arm and smiled down at him.

"Five years _married_," Luke clarified proudly, shifting his vision from me to the cab driver's reflection in the mirror. "We've been _together_ much longer than that." He took my left hand from over his shoulder and placed it in his lap, his fingers twisting the platinum band that kept my third digit permanent company.

"Good for you," the cab driver responded, breaking out into a grin. She made a sharp right at the corner of the approaching street, not registering any of the angry honking that sounded around her. She pulled to a quick stop in front of the Marriott Marquis, and turned to face us as best she could through the plastic divider between the front and back seats of the taxicab. "Good to see a happy couple here in Manhattan."

Luke laughed quietly again, his face turned away from her. He was completely enjoying her attention. No one in Oakdale ever applauded us for being a happy, stable couple _anywhere_.

I thanked her sincerely and paid for our ride, then led Luke out of the cab and into the hotel. We crossed over the glistening gold tile of the lobby floor towards the escalators, the magnificent overhead lighting glowing above us, and then rode one flight up to the elevator bay. We entered the elevator together, Luke's arms wrapped around my waist. The numbered floor buttons began to light up as the elevator swiftly ascended above lobby level.

"Noah?" Luke spoke into my chest.

"Hmm?" I rubbed his back soothingly.

"Can we come back here again, sometime?"

I chuckled. "You really liked the homemade lasagna at Vincent's, didn't you?"

Luke laughed with me. "I liked being there with _you_," he answered. "It was…romantic."

I squeezed him to me as the elevator bell signaled our floor. "Happy anniversary," I whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. He grinned back up at me, those perfectly round cheeks book-ending his contented expression.

Later that night, after the customary check-in phone calls had been made to Lily and Holden to make sure the kids (and Luke's parents themselves, who had willingly volunteered to baby-sit for the weekend) were okay, Luke and I gathered each other in our arms and made love as if it had been that first time in his bedroom those many years ago. Watching this stunning man of mine glide effortlessly through the past years of his life only made him more desirable to me, more cherished, and that night, I relished his company more than any other night I could remember to this day.

In the afterglow, Luke lay next to me in bed, our naked bodies touching the cool darkness of our hotel room, and we gazed at one another without uttering a single syllable. Luke's fingertips trailed lightly over my cheek, down over my chin, as those honey-brown eyes memorized every curve of my face. I couldn't remember falling asleep that night, couldn't pinpoint the moment when my brain told my eyes they were too tired to remain open, but when I awoke the next morning, Luke's smiling face was the first image that came into view.

Happy anniversary, indeed. _Happiest_, even.


	4. The Three C's

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of As the World Turns. No profit is being made from this.

Notes: This chapter is my favourite! (Is it wrong to have a favourite chapter of your own story? :-P) I had a really great time writing Luke and Hannah in this part, especially since I love the idea of Daddy!Luke (and Daddy!Noah, of course). :-) I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Four: The Three C's

I looked over my shoulder at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, over the table. It was nearing eleven-thirty. Luke hadn't slept this late on a Saturday morning since Matthew had come into our lives six years ago.

I brought my attention back to the broken refrigerator drawer, which was hanging halfway out of the bottom of the fridge, caught in my left hand as I crouched in front of it. I struggled with it for a few more minutes, trying to get the faulty tracking to catch the plastic of the drawer, but with no luck. In a momentary lapse of patience, I picked my screwdriver up from the tile of the kitchen floor next to me and slammed the butt of it against the inside of the drawer, where plastic met tracking. The drawer clattered loudly but finally took to the track, and it slid closed without further ado.

That's when Luke's amused laugh sounded above my head. I looked up to find him leaning against the open fridge door, his blonde hair sticking up in wild angles from sleep.

"You _put_ that drawer in its place," he praised jokingly.

I glanced down at the screwdriver in my hand and chuckled, then stood and placed it on the counter as I turned to face Luke. "Good morning," I greeted him, leaning to give him a smile and a kiss.

He closed the refrigerator door while simultaneously reaching for me. "Morning," he responded sweetly, after we broke apart.

"So, you slept pretty late," I said, leaning my right hand against the counter.

Luke ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "I know," he replied bashfully. "Didn't mean to. I guess I was just tired."

I smoothed my hand down his left arm. "It's okay." He deserved to rest. I smiled at him. "Coffee?"

Luke's face lit up at the mention of our favorite morning beverage. "Yes, please." He shuffled behind the counter, watching as I turned to the cabinet and pulled out a mug for him. "Kids okay?"

I placed his mug on the counter next to the sink, my back to him. "It's the usual," I replied. "Coloring and cartoons." I glanced over my shoulder at him, catching a glimpse of anxious excitement pass over his face at my words.

I laughed at the coffeepot. "I'll bring it in to you," I told him.

Luke was adorably predictable sometimes, when it came to our kids. His favorite past-time at home was the three C's: coffee, coloring, and cartoons. It had been his routine since the day we'd become fathers, and he had dove into it wholeheartedly and had assimilated it fully into his being. During the week he only had Hannah for company, since Matthew had advanced to first grade, and I knew he missed the companionship of both our kids in the morning. Saturdays were the perfect time to make up for the lack of togetherness.

Hannah's delighted shriek came through the doorway to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room, where she and Matthew were enjoying the TV. Luke and Hannah were special coloring buddies, and she'd shoved crayons and coloring books in his face every chance she'd gotten since the discovery of her love for them. They were already knee-deep in coloring-book discussion by the time I made it to the living room with Luke's full mug of coffee.

"_Brown_?" Luke was asking in mock incredulity. "But he's a _pig_!"

Hannah sat next to him on the living room carpet, her coloring book spread open against the coffee table in front of them. She looked up from her page at Luke like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.

"He's in the _mud_, Daddy," she explained, as if he was the child and she was the adult. She went back to coloring the barn a bright brick red on the opposite page from Luke, satisfied with her explanation.

Luke regarded her reasoning for a moment. "Hmm. Okay." He reached to her side and started tickling her, taking her off-guard. "How about I color him pink first, and then brown after that?"

Hannah burst out into giggles at Luke's touch. "But then he'll look all droopy!" she exclaimed, grinning up at him.

"Droopy?" Luke asked, his eyes shining at her. "You mean _drippy_. 'Cause he's in the mud, right? So the brown will be the sloppy, gushy mud all over him!" He attacked her with renewed force, tickling her sides through her pink pajamas.

Hannah screeched in laughter, her face scrunching up. "That's yucky!" she managed to cry out as she squirmed unsuccessfully away from his hands.

I laughed at the two of them as I set Luke's coffee cup on the table in front of him, away from the edges of Hannah's prized coloring book. Luke smiled appreciatively to me as he released Hannah from his torturous grip. He and Hannah then took up their respective crayons and re-focused on their pages, a silent truce called between them for the time being.

I walked to the back of the living room and picked my backpack up from the floor. I slung it over my shoulder as I made my way back in front of the coffee table. Luke looked up at me, disappointment crossing over his features.

"Time to go already?" he asked me, setting his crayon down.

I nodded. "Shooting starts in about an hour. I should leave now, though, just in case there's traffic getting into Chicago."

"O-_kay_," Luke pouted, his voice dropping an octave. His reaction was exaggerated for the sake of the kids' entertainment, but I knew that truly, he was somewhat disappointed. Working Saturdays wasn't customary for me, but today had been an unavoidable exception. "Goodbye kisses for everyone!" Luke announced then.

Matthew had been sitting quietly on the couch behind Luke and Hannah, watching the TV with those ever-attentive eyes. Luke reached behind himself and scratched lightly at Matthew's leg.

"Gonna kiss Daddy goodbye, bud?" he asked, craning his neck to look at Matthew.

Our son looked back at him somberly, which made Luke burst out laughing. "I'm gonna get you!" he threatened jovially, twisting from his position on the floor.

Matthew didn't have a snowball's chance in hell. Luke was on him before he could blink, and our son found himself at Luke's mercy as he blew unadulterated raspberries onto Matthew's belly. I watched as Matthew's stoic expression cracked instantly, and he tugged playfully at Luke's hair, his boyish laughter gaining volume.

I kissed Hannah's forehead first, then walked to the side of the couch and kissed Matthew's head once Luke finally let up on him. They both came up laughing, and I braced myself against the arm of the couch to lean down to Luke.

"Bye," I said lowly, pressing my lips to his.

"Bye," he whispered back.

I kissed him again, slower this time.

His voice said, "Be careful," but his expression said _I love you_.

"I will," I promised, hoping he could read my expression just as clearly. I straightened and readjusted my bag over my shoulder, then grabbed my keys from the hook beside the door and stepped out into the beautiful Saturday sunshine. The last thing I saw was Luke, grinning from ear to ear as he leaned to Hannah and pursed his lips at her so she would giggle back at him.

Two hours later, in the middle of my shoot, my cell phone went off in my pocket. I listened with my heart in my throat as Lily explained that Luke's sudden excruciating pain had caused him to call her to come over to our house, and the ambulance was already on its way. Later that day my husband was transferred to Chicago Medical Center and put under by the anesthesiologist there, who assured us that Luke would be more comfortable and the drugs would work faster if he remained sedated for at least the next twenty-four hours.

The entirety of that night I spent in Luke's room, I was utterly unable to remember my name. All I knew was that my husband had woken up that morning with a disposition that challenged the brilliance of the sun, and now he was lying incapacitated in a strange hospital bed with that sterile scent coating the walls around him. And somehow I managed to continue to breathe.


	5. Miracle

Disclaimer: I do not own anything connected to As the World Turns. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Notes: The final chapter! Thank you so much, everyone, for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it so very much, and I'm so glad you all have enjoyed this story! I absolutely loved writing it. :-)

Also, special thanks to my sis LunaSempai/Honey, for not only being my "Gamma" every step of the way, but also for titling this chapter! :-D

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Five: Miracle

The wailing is what roused me from my slumber.

It began quietly, floating up from the round bassinette on my left, but by the time my brain was fully awake, it had grown into a full-fledged cry, ripping from the depths of the tiny cloth-covered crib.

I reached out to my right, blindly searching for Luke. When my hand hit his arm, I latched onto it and gently shook him, my eyes still closed against the darkness of our bedroom.

"Luke."

He grunted through his nose. "Baby's awake," he responded. He lifted his arm from the mattress, my grip falling loose, and I heard him run his hand over his face, stifling a yawn.

I dragged my eyes open and turned my face to my husband, who was looking just as interrupted as I felt. We hadn't had more than two hours of sleep at a time for the past week, and this was only just the beginning.

We shared a resolved "I'm on it" look, then I rolled over to my left and stood up from the bed, while Luke forced himself to slide out on his side and head for the bedroom door.

I picked baby Hannah up from her bassinette and cradled her, trying to soothe her as best I could until Luke returned. Her crying died down somewhat on contact, but she was still hungry and determined to let us know it. I settled on the edge of my side of the bed and kept her close to me, slowly rocking until Luke's footsteps finally padded across the carpet and our mattress dipped with his weight.

He crawled up behind me, his right arm coming over my shoulder, warm bottle in hand. I took it from him gratefully, and we two watched together as Hannah anxiously accepted the bottle and began to suckle eagerly, her cries finally subsiding, the room once again falling into silence.

Luke leaned against my back, his chin fitting into the crook of my shoulder, his nose pressing into the side of my neck. He laughed and his breath tickled my skin, causing me to tear my eyes off our daughter and turn my face to him.

"We're fathers again," I told him. As my gaze secured his, Luke's eyes caught the moonlight that streamed from the window and shone back at me, the fulfillment prominent on his features.

Luke slid his arms around my torso, careful not to disturb the baby, and locked me tightly in his embrace. "We're fathers again," he agreed, a satisfied smile overtaking his face.

We kissed softly in the dimness of our bedroom, then turned back to observe the miracle in our hands, that beautiful baby girl who, within minutes of meeting her, had become one of the two most treasured loves of our lives.

* * *

I woke up that morning to the sensation of touch.

My face was smashed against the thin mattress in front of me, my neck twisted in the position that made me want to kick myself for trying to sleep that way, because I knew I would regret it, and my back was aching from being hunched over in the molded plastic chair all night, my knee half-numb. Still, I registered the fingers at the nape of my neck, the warm tips gently sifting through the back of my hair, combing nonchalantly as if to settle me to sleep.

I lifted my head, but quickly stopped myself as the shooting pain tore through my neck. I rubbed at it awkwardly, hoping to ease the stiffness before I sat up all the way, and slowly I turned my head to the right. I took a deep breath to mentally prepare for the pain, but the sight my eyes latched on to completely obliterated any thoughts that were forming in my mind. I jerked up from my bent position in shock, discomfort immediately forgotten.

"Hey there." Luke's smiling face spoke at me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came.

Luke's hand had fallen from my head to the mattress, and he slid it across the cotton sheet, over the hand I was using to support myself against his bed. His skin was warmer than usual, and he squeezed my fingers tightly.

"Luke," I managed to gulp out.

His gentle laugh breezed from his lips. "That's me, last time I checked."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "You're awake," I sputtered.

His eyes crinkled in that loving smile he never failed to share with me. "I'm awake," he agreed.

"But-but how…" I fought for words so hard and so fast my brain ached. "When…? How long…?"

Luke laughed again, deeper, louder. "This morning," he replied. He seemed to be okay with explaining the situation at my pace. "I just wanted to watch you sleep for a while."

I put my free hand on my chest, over my heart, which had started pounding against my ribcage without my permission. "You're…I'm…" Why was I still trying to speak? My brain was clearly broken at the moment.

Luke tugged my hand then, his smile unchanging. "Come _here_," he implored quietly, a hint of desperation coloring his tone. He pulled harder, and I found myself suddenly caught up in his arms.

Despite the sterile stench of the hospital, and the over-starched paper-thin gown that clothed him, the heat and the muscle and the heart behind the gesture was all Luke. He held me with everything he could give at this very moment, and I had to remind myself not to crush him against me in return, an action which screamed to be set free from every fiber of my existence.

I held my husband – my _conscious_ husband – for what could have been minutes stretched into hours, hours stretched into days – it was impossible to determine – and neither one of us spoke, neither one of us moved; we barely took an unsynchronized breath from each other. I lost myself in him, in that bottomless, all-encompassing core of him that was second nature to me, and we welcomed each other back into our lives in peaceful, honest silence.

*

I stood in the corner of Luke's hospital room and watched the scene unfold in front of me.

Lily bent down to embrace her son, peppering his forehead with relieved kisses. Holden sat at Luke's bedside for a long time after Lily had moved to share her space with him, and he and Luke spoke quietly with one another, Holden clapping his hand on Luke's shoulder, sharing Lily's bright smile. Luke, in turn, glowed up at the two of them, grinning shyly in embarrassment, but also sharing in his parents' unquestionable happiness. Being a married man with two kids had not changed the way Luke's parents treated him; to them, he would always be their beloved little boy.

I glanced over my shoulder at the door just in time to catch the shock of strawberry blonde hair that belonged to Lucinda. I pulled the door open easily, slipping through it unnoticed by the occupants of Luke's room. Hannah and Matthew were clutched in Lucinda's hands, standing quietly in the hall on either side of her.

Lucinda smiled at me, her eyes crinkling in the same manner as Luke's when he whole-heartedly grinned. She let the children's hands go, affectionately smoothed each of their hair, and then left the three of us out together in the hall. No doubt my kids had been informed of their father's recent condition.

Hannah reached for me instantly, and I lifted her off the white, polished floor without hesitation. Matthew stood still, his eyes locked on the door in front of him, his face expressionless. Hannah's round eyes found mine, and I smiled at her. She grinned back.

I reached for Matthew, but his arms remained at his side, as if he hadn't seen my hand. He seemed to know what I was intending to do, and he moved closer to me as I turned, his arm coming around the back of my leg. He walked with me into the room, his tiny arm still holding behind my kneecap, his body half-hidden behind me as I walked.

I understood Matthew so well. He was just like me in so many ways – knowing what scared him, afraid to face the truth. This time the truth was a positive thing for us, but he was too young to fully trust it right off the bat. He held his fear down in the darkness of his being, keeping it buried there until something came along to absolve it. Seeing Luke awake and aware would do that for him, I knew.

Once she laid eyes on him, Hannah could barely wait to get out of my arms and into Luke's, and he shared her sentiment. Lily and Holden helped to make sure nothing of importance got yanked or crushed on the way, and soon Hannah was huddled hard into Luke's right side, her little fingers clenching his hospital gown.

Matthew's reaction was more subdued, and I suspected that Luke had expected it to be. He reached calmly for Matthew, who was still hiding halfway behind my leg, and slowly, quietly, our son emerged fully and climbed onto the mattress with his grandparents' help. There he settled against Luke, who pressed his lips onto Matthew's dark hair.

The three of them held each other, sharing longing glances and quick, tight squeezes.

*

Later that afternoon, when Lily, Holden, Lucinda, and about fifty other Snyders had gone, I looked down at Luke, where he lay still sandwiched on his bed between Hannah Elizabeth and Matthew Thomas, his two greatest joys in the world. He grinned back up at me, holding tightly to our children.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Happy birthday."

Luke looked surprised for a second, then cocked his head. "It's the sixteenth?" he asked curiously, his voice rising a notch.

I nodded.

Luke glanced down at our kids fondly and then looked back up at me. "Best birthday present _ever_," he concluded happily.

I sank back down in my chair, facing my family. Hannah looked up at Luke with those beautiful azure eyes.

"What was it like, Daddy, when you were asleep?" she asked quietly. If his forthcoming answer held any trepidation for her, she didn't show it.

Luke thought for a moment, then regarded her kindly. "It was warm," he said simply. He squeezed Matthew again, who still sat calmly at his side, his small hands digging into Luke's hospital gown.

"Warm?" I repeated incredulously. There's no way sedation could have been _warm_.

Luke reached out and took my hand, fixing his gaze on me. The kids remained rooted beside him. "It felt like _you_ were there," he explained. "I didn't want to leave."

I didn't say anything, but my expression gave me away. _Me?_

Luke nodded matter-of-factly. "And now you're here."

I brought his hand to my lips and pressed his fingers against them, smiling over the back of his hand at him. "Now I'm here," I agreed.

_And so are you._

[End.]


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